


trusting

by fluffysfics



Series: experiments [2]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, and a little plot, inappropriate usage of leather gloves, mild dysphoria mention, post-timeless children, the Doctor can’t bottom to save her life, the Doctor has trust issues, the Master being nice for once
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:02:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23841955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fluffysfics/pseuds/fluffysfics
Summary: Following on from her last successful experiment with the Master, the Doctor decides to try another one.As it turns out, she’s kind of terrible at giving up control.
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan)
Series: experiments [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1717993
Comments: 10
Kudos: 103





	trusting

“So. Experiments.”

The Doctor broached this subject one evening (whatever passed for an evening on board a time-travelling spaceship, at least), about a week and a half since her first _experiment_ with the Master. 

He snapped shut the book he’d been trying to read to her, looking equal parts exasperated and interested. The Doctor didn’t blame him. Reading to her had been _her_ idea in the first place, and she’d interrupted him sixteen times. 

“Experiments, Doctor?”

“Yeah! Experiments. I want...well. Do you remember what we talked about? Um. In bed?”

“Vaguely,” the Master admitted. “Wasn’t in the clearest headspace, thanks to you.” 

“Sorry.” The Doctor grinned, looking just about the exact opposite of sorry. “Well? D’you have any thoughts?”

The Master sighed, setting his book on the floor. He sat up a little, drumming his fingers on his knee. Full of energy this time around, the Doctor mused, watching him with a faint smile. Always moving some small part of himself, like those sharks that would die if they stopped swimming. 

“You wanted me to take control, yes? See if you still like being touched when you’re not...puppeting me.” He tilted his head, questioning. 

“Basically, yeah. ‘Cept I wanted to talk to you about it first, so...” She dragged the last word out, stretching the ‘O’ sound for several seconds. The Master blinked at her, expectant. 

“You’re going to have to tell me what you want to talk about, dear.”

The Doctor felt a faint flush rise to her cheeks, immediately shaking some of her hair into her face to hide it. Judging by the Master’s amused snort, it didn’t work very well. Okay. Fine. Embarrassment or not, she just had to bite the bullet and talk about this. 

“I just- want to know...what you want to. Do to me. You know?” She ground the words out as best she could, avoiding his gaze. The Master was suspiciously quiet, and eventually the Doctor had to look up. 

He’d leaned forward, and he seemed to be watching her with _great_ interest. Far too much like a tiger might watch its prey. 

“Right. Well, then. Guess I better think about what I want to do to you, hadn’t I?”

“Please do.” 

“Hm.” With that, the Master settled back in his chair, looking like a smug cat. Smug, yet thoughtful. The Doctor let herself sink down until she was half-lying on the sofa she’d stretched out on, feeling her cheeks burning. Maybe the light from the library fireplace was obscuring the redness a little. Probably not, though, she never got that lucky. 

“Can I tie you down?”

Immediately the redness in her face intensified by what felt like about a thousand percent. She’d brought this on herself, the Doctor reminded herself, now she had to live with it. 

“How much?”

“All of you.”

“No. No way.” She wrinkled her nose. Too much like being trapped. 

“Just your arms?”

She considered it. Remembered Zellin’s nightmare ship, remembered being tied up to a stake in a little English village and being accused of witchcraft. 

“Only if you use something soft,” she said carefully. “No handcuffs or proper restraints. No rope. And you have to let me go if I ask.”

The Master studied her face for a moment, then nodded. 

“I can live with that. How rough do you want me to be with you?”

The Doctor winced. 

“Um. Not? At all? Not really. I just want you in control. Can probably handle a bit of pushing around, but no...no blood, no...I don’t know, hitting me. No marks anywhere visible. And don’t be mean.”

He sighed, and she could see him mentally sifting through plans and discarding them. Discarding a _lot_ of them. Maybe she should be concerned about that, another time, when she was less embarrassed to even be asking for this. She swore it hadn’t been this awkward to talk about sex when they were young. 

“Last question, I think. You know those gloves I used to wear, back in the body I stole from your little friend’s father? Do you think your TARDIS would give me a pair?”

Oh, Nyssa. She should check up on how Nyssa was doing later, see how she and Tegan were- no, focus. Don’t take the easy distraction. 

“You might have to beg and plead a bit, but...probably?” The Doctor frowned. “What d’you want gloves for?”

The Master grinned. “You want to experiment with touch, my dear, I’m going to take that _seriously_. You’ll see what I mean.” 

She was just going to have to trust him on that one, clearly. Alright. She...she could do that. Not like he could hurt her with a pair of gloves. Could he? Hm. Trust him, come on. 

“Is that everything?” The Doctor shook her hair away from her face, hoping that the blush had faded a little. 

“Oh, you look _magnificent_.” Clearly it hadn’t faded that much. Even if the Master was half-teasing, the compliment set off something warm in her chest, right between her hearts. “I think that’s everything. Ah- if you want me to stop, I will. Any time. No questions asked.” 

She nodded, appreciative of that. 

“Thank you,” she mumbled, then cleared her throat. “Um. So. Can we do this- now?” 

“Was it my reading aloud that got you in the mood for sex, or was that so boring that you just _had_ to think of a distraction?” 

The Doctor blinked at him. “First one?” She’d leave it up to him as to whether she was telling the truth or not. 

“Hm,” the Master said, narrowing his eyes at her. “Fine. Okay, dear. Go to your bedroom, I’ll be along in a minute. Just got to grab a couple things.” He grinned at her, still lounging in his chair in that infuriatingly catlike manner. 

Oh, he was waiting for her to leave. 

“Um. See ya.” Her face flushed again, and the Doctor made a hasty exit from the library before he could call her out on it. She’d remained remarkably cool and calm when she’d been the one in control. That had been nice, actually, being able to be the one to make the _Master_ flustered. 

Not so cool and calm now, was she? Apparently the mere prospect of the Master taking control was enough to have her almost speechless with embarrassment. This self _liked_ being in control, it seemed. Ooh, she hoped asking for this wasn’t a mistake. 

The Doctor entered her room, thinking to actually hang her coat up in the proper place this time. The floor was just as messy as ever, the bed just as pristine as always. Okay, so she hadn’t actually slept since the last time she’d been in here with the Master. That was only a week and a half ago, she’d done worse. 

She sat cross-legged on the bed, tapping one foot against the sheets and fiddling with the ends of her hair. Nervous energy was something she was familiar with, it had gotten her out of many a deadly scrape. This one...wasn’t so deadly, though, was it? Hopefully. Definitely. _Trust_. 

Five minutes later, she heard footsteps echoing down the corridor, and the Master pushed open her bedroom door. He’d added a pair of soft leather gloves to his outfit, in a shade of purple that matched his coat and actually looked...quite nice, the Doctor thought. And he was carrying a long strip of soft blue fabric, that looked kind of like...

She frowned. “Is that-“

“One of the curtain ties from your sweet little drawing room, yes. Your ship refused to give me anything to tie you up with, so I improvised and went hunting for myself.” He snapped the strip of fabric between his hands with a grin. 

“Can’t say I’m surprised. Good to know the drawing room still exists, too.” The Doctor grinned back, tongue poking out from between her teeth for just a moment before the nerves kicked back in again. “So. We’re doing this. How do you...want me?” That felt weird to ask. 

“Take your shirt off.” The Master stepped closer to the bed, fixing his gaze on her. “And your suspenders. And whatever’s underneath, if you feel comfortable with it.”

She shook her head immediately. Nothing about this situation felt comfortable, definitely not a time to push new boundaries. The Master just shrugged, looking thankfully not too bothered. 

The Doctor slipped her suspenders off her shoulders, unclipping them and tossing them over the edge of the bed. Her t-shirt came next, thrown aside with an equal lack of care. That done, she stared up at the Master, who was staring right back with something like hunger in his eyes. She folded her arms across her chest. 

“You’re looking at me like you want to eat me,” she complained. 

“Well,” he said, a smile twitching at his lips, his gaze drifting to the front of her trousers. “Maybe I’ll eat something, if you’re good. Lie down, would you, hands above your head.” 

The Doctor pointedly ignored the lewd comment and did as he asked, trying not to feel too vulnerable with her body stretched out in front of him. She reminded herself that being tied up was more of a symbolic gesture, that she was plenty strong enough to break some curtain cord if he tried to hurt her. 

No, come on, _trust_. He wasn’t going to hurt her. 

“Thank you. You look truly stunning, Doctor, it’s a privilege to see you like this. And it’s a privilege that I’m going to be taking _very_ seriously.” The Master leaned down, wrapping the fabric around her wrists, looping them together tight enough that she couldn’t even wriggle them. She glanced up, finding him tying her bound wrists to the headboard. There was some slack in the cord, so she could pull, even move her arms a little, but not to anywhere below her head. 

“Perfect,” he hummed, pulling away and shedding his jacket. “Do me a favour, Doctor, tell me how you feel.”

“Um.” She stared up at him. Honesty was best here, wasn’t it? “Nervous. Really nervous. Little bit excited, but mostly nervous.”

The Master tilted his head, climbing up onto the bed and straddling her hips. Did she feel too trapped now? No, this was fine, the Doctor could kick him off if she needed to. 

Not that she’d need to, because she trusted him, she reminded herself. She was having to do that a lot, wasn’t she?

“I promise I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do,” the Master said, his voice surprisingly gentle. “I want to be allowed to do this again, so of course I’m going to try and make it good for you.” He reached up, touching her cheek with one gloved hand, thumb tracing across her lips. 

Oh. Oh, okay. That was new. 

It felt almost like skin-to-skin contact, but not quite. The gloves were warm, and soft, but- different. Not a bad different, the Doctor decided, but a different that was going to take some getting used to. Somehow, though, it was a little easier to take than his hand directly touching her. 

She found herself leaning into the touch, to the Master’s immensely pleased satisfaction. “Lovely,” he murmured, thumb still stroking across her lips. “I thought you might like that. Aren’t you such a pretty sight?”

Between the praise and the strange new feeling, the Doctor felt her breathing quicken, heat rising under her skin. She could handle not being in control for a little while, if he was going to say nice things like that. 

“I- that’s- kiss me?” Maybe she wasn’t in much of a position to be making requests, but the Master indulged her anyway. She closed her eyes, leaning up towards him as best she could. Her nerves were fading away, slowly but surely, and instead she found herself curious. Wanting _more_. 

The Master’s hands slid to her neck, gloved fingers wrapping around it, flirting with the idea of squeezing for just a moment before moving lower to her shoulders. The Doctor had felt fear skitter down her spine at the thought of being unable to breathe- maybe he’d seen it in her face, maybe he was just sensible enough to know that she _really_ didn’t want to be choked. 

But there was no time for dwelling on that when there were fingertips tracing patterns on her shoulders, skimming up her upper arms, moving back down across the top of her chest. It was a sharp contrast to the kisses he’d covered her with last time- this time, the Master wouldn’t stop moving, seemed determined to overwhelm her with his touch. 

“Tell me how you feel now.” It was an order more than a request, and the Doctor found herself...not minding that as much as she would have done five minutes ago. 

“Better,” she decided. The Master hummed, flattening his palm over her left heart. It was so much like being touched, and yet so _very_ far from it- everything was a little too smooth, a little too soft, and she couldn’t quite decide if it was arousing or infuriating. Both? Probably both. “That’s- I think I like this.”

“Good,” he purred, both hands flattening out on her chest as he leaned down to lavish a few kisses along her jawline. “Very good, being _so_ good for me.”

The Doctor found herself shivering, trying her hardest to press her legs together and get a little friction. It was not easy, with the Master sitting on her hips. Did _all_ her selves have a thing for praise? The last two certainly had, River had taken great advantage of-

Maybe don’t think about her dead (ish) wife when she was in bed with the Master. That seemed like a bad idea. 

Thankfully, he pulled back, providing a wonderful distraction by skimming his hands down her sides, sweeping them along the bottom of her ribcage. She had to fight the urge not to wriggle and pull at the ties binding her wrists, still far too ticklish there. The Master seemed to know that, pressing his fingertips into spots that made her jump, made her have to bite her tongue just to stop herself from _yelping_. 

“You’re being a bastard,” she complained, sentence rising to a sharp high note at the end as he poked her right in the soft flesh under her ribs. “Ow! That was definitely on purpose.” The Doctor pouted. He just grinned at her, and moved to trail his hands across her stomach, circling her waist. 

“What do you think of the gloves? I told you I’d take this whole _experimenting with touch_ thing seriously.” 

“They’re. Um. Nice,” she admitted, blushing. “Good idea, I think. It’s not- _quite_ like being touched. It makes things easier. And I like how they feel.”

The Master gazed down at her, looking thoughtful, looking like there was something he _wanted_. “...Mm. You like it enough that you don’t want me to take them off and touch you more?” 

“I-“ The Doctor pressed her eyes tight shut. Talking was hard. Feeling was so much easier, but his hands were just resting on her waist, pointedly not moving. “I want to feel _you_ touch me, too.” 

“Well. Guess you’d better help me take at least one of these off, hadn’t you?”

The Doctor stared at him like he’d grown an extra head, and flopped her bound wrists pointedly. 

“Didn’t say you had to use your hands, did I?” 

She was about to ask what he could possibly mean by that, when he lifted one hand and pressed it against her lips. Ah. 

“Don’t bite me, dear, I know you’re fond of that this time around but I’d really rather keep all my fingertips intact. If it’s all the same to you.” He sounded incredibly pleased with himself, and the Doctor was half-tempted to bite just to wipe the smirk off his lips. 

But she didn’t. She took the end of the glove _carefully_ in her teeth, pulling it off and turning her head to toss it to one side. He watched her, and the Doctor could see something like _fire_ in his eyes. The thrill of knowing that he had power. She knew that feeling, she _liked_ that feeling. It was dangerously addictive. 

The Master flexed his newly revealed fingers. “Good,” he said again. “You’re being so good for me, love. I’m impressed.”

This time, the Doctor couldn’t disguise the small, soft noise his praise drew from her. She fixed her gaze on his hand so she wouldn’t have to see his face, but she could hear the smugness in his voice anyway. 

“You want me to touch you properly?” His still-gloved hand was back on her face, on her lips, trailing down her neck, her sides, _everywhere_. It was impossible to focus on anything when she had to stop herself from arching into the touch. 

“You know I do.” She pouted. 

“That’s no way to ask your Master for something, now, is it?” He tipped her chin up with his gloved hand, and the Doctor gave him her best unimpressed look. Would he ever get tired of using his name for cheap shots like that? Probably not. 

“Please?” 

“Good start. I think you know I need more.” The Master leaned down over her, stealing a kiss. 

“...Please,” she said again, half-closing her eyes. “Please touch me. Properly. With your actual hand. Please.”

He raised an expectant eyebrow. 

“Please, _Master_.” It wasn’t quite so hard to give in and say that as she’d expected. He’d done a good job, setting this up, praising her, making her relax- she found that she didn’t mind indulging him a little in return. 

“Oh, beautiful. Very good, _very_ good,” he breathed, and finally his hand was on her skin. The Master followed the same path he’d taken with the gloves a few minutes ago; her lips, her neck, across her chest, and down over her ribs and stomach. Almost identical. 

Except this time, it was different. His hand was rougher, warmer than the gloves, it was undeniably _real_ and _him_. This was what he’d wanted before, wasn’t it? To touch her, feel her just as real as she could feel him without anything getting in the way. The Doctor found herself twisting towards the touch, every too-light brush of his fingers over her abdomen sending a spark through her. 

She could see now why people liked being touched, if it always felt like this for them. In some ways, the sparks were nothing new. Every time some well-meaning human unexpectedly put their hand on her back to move her, she’d feel those same sparks, except they usually went right up to whichever part of her brain controlled _disgust_ and made her want to jump about a foot in the air. With the Master, those sparks were going to a very different place, one that had her breath quickening, any particularly pleasant touches tearing more soft noises from her throat. 

“More,” she found herself begging, completely unprompted. “Please. Please, more. Master.” Maybe his title was a little bit tacked on at the end, but she’d said it and she hadn’t had to be asked; surely that had to be worth something?

It was, as it turned out, worth the Master climbing off of her, undoing the buttons on her trousers and fixing her with a gaze full of an intense heat that just made her think he was _pretty_. 

“Can I take these off? Your underwear, too?”

“Oh. Yeah. _Yeah_ , please.” The Doctor lifted her hips up to make it a little easier on him. She’d lift them more, but it was hard when her hands were bound and she couldn’t use them to help. “Thank you for. Um. Asking.”

“I told you, love, I want to make this good for you.” There was something uncharacteristically soft in the Master’s eyes when he said that. The Doctor was reminded of how hard she’d been finding it to relax, to trust him. Looking into those eyes, she could believe him. She could believe _anything_. 

She swallowed, throat suddenly dry, allowing her newly bare legs to distract her from her thoughts. The Master’s hands skimmed down her thighs- one hand, one glove, and she had to fight not to squirm. It was such an odd feeling of mixed signals; too much on one side, too little on the other, the confusion blending together and becoming what her brain decided to interpret as _pleasure_. If she didn’t have her wrists tied right now, the Doctor would be dragging his hands upwards, demanding he touch her where she needed. As it was, all she could do was pull uselessly at the ties. 

“Oh, look at you. Really- _look_ at you...” The Master leaned up to kiss her again, and she felt a spark in the contact- before she knew it, he was pressing an image into her head, and she gasped, breaking away from his lips. 

She looked a mess. Flushed right down to her neck, faint red marks on her wrists where she’d been struggling against the ties. Her legs were open without the slightest care for decency, and she looked _desperate_. 

Oh, she was getting kind of desperate, wasn’t she? It was remarkable how easily she could tune out her own feelings until something reminded her of them. The Doctor could feel heat building up between her legs, her hips rocking softly back and forth against nothing in a vague, useless attempt to relieve it. 

“Master,” she breathed, and he looked up at her like she’d just handed him the universe on a plate. That look alone did about as much for her as all his touching had so far. “ _Fuck_. Master, _please_ , touch me more.” 

She was expecting to be teased. That’s what he had done last time, teased her until she’d snapped and almost shouted at him to get on with it. And _she’d_ been the one in control that time. 

Instead, she got the Master positioning himself between her legs, his bare hand smoothing up one of her thighs and then his thumb pressing against her clit. 

The Doctor actually did yelp that time, accidentally pulling at her bindings so hard she felt the material strain and almost snap. 

The Master just snickered, and did it again. 

She managed to refrain from making a fool of herself for a second time, limiting her reactions to pressing her hips forward and making a few, blessedly _quieter_ noises. “More,” she breathed, and the Master seemed happy to oblige, actually starting to move his thumb. 

The Doctor closed her eyes and let herself melt into the sheets, absolutely shameless. She couldn’t stop herself from grinding against his hand; even when he moved his gloved hand to her hip, trying to pin it in place, she struggled and desperately tried to press for more. It was like no part of her could keep still, everything had to be moving, or the heat under her skin would overtake her and burn her up. 

She felt the Master shift, and then he was pressing one of his fingers inside her, and the Doctor couldn’t help the strangled noise that escaped her. That was certainly... _different_. He pushed a second finger in after a minute, moving them both in time with the thumb that was still circling her clit. 

What she wouldn’t give right now for something to hold onto. The headboard was out of reach, as were the pillows, and her own hair. The Doctor was left clenching her fists so hard she could feel her own blunt nails digging into her skin, her body shaking as the Master played her like a damn _piano_. 

“I stand by what I said earlier,” the Master murmured. “You are _magnificent_. Absolutely stunning. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do just to watch you fall apart, you know that? And- mm. You know what you look like. You know how good you are. My perfect, _perfect_ Doctor.”

She let out a noise somewhere close to a sob, feeling like she couldn’t un-clench her tightly closed eyelids even if she wanted to. Every muscle in her body was tense, utterly focused on what the Master was doing to her. His fingers had found that spot inside her that made her legs shake, and he was abusing it, and it was _far too much_ all at once. 

Far too much, and yet she thought she might go mad if he stopped. 

She felt his presence pushing at her mind again, and she let him in without hesitation. Someday she’d have to return these favours, show the Master the same pleasures he’d shown her, but for now the Doctor was more than happy to let him share in her feelings. It was easier, and she really didn’t have the mental capacity to think of anything _else_ to do to him right now. 

His gratitude echoed around her head, and then she felt his lips on her stomach, her ribs, felt teeth near her hips and the distinctive sting of a mark being left behind. Her eyes snapped open, meeting the Master’s gaze immediately, his own eyes full of hazy lust and adoration and something deeper that she was almost afraid to name. 

The Doctor tipped her head back with a shout, back arching off the bed as that tension finally shattered and every nerve in her body burned with pleasure. She felt herself tense around his fingers inside of her, and wasn’t _that_ an odd feeling, and yet one that only seemed to add to the spiralling waves of sensation flowing through her like ripples and eddies in water. 

She slumped back against the bed, letting out a groan. Blinking the fogginess out of her vision, she looked down, seeing the Master with his head resting against her stomach, breathing hard. She made a vague noise of complaint, flopping her bound arms against the bed again. 

He looked up, brown eyes almost as hazy as they’d been a minute ago. Beautiful, the Doctor decided. Absolutely beautiful. Now if only he’d get up here and _untie_ _her_. 

“...Fuck. Sorry, love.” The Master sat up immediately, and the Doctor realised he’d heard her, realised their minds were still connected. She met his gaze, and had that thought about how beautiful he was again, grinning at him. He flushed, deep enough that it showed up even against the soft brown of his skin. She grinned even wider, toes curling happily against the sheets. Endorphins were a hell of a drug, weren’t they? 

The Master worked to get her untied, his hands a little shakier than they’d been when he’d tied her up. He took hold of her wrists when he was done, massaging them, pressing a soft kiss to each. 

“Not too sore, are you?” 

She shook her head, and the Master smiled, carefully withdrawing himself from her head. The Doctor barely had time to miss his presence before he was wrapping his arms around her, scattering kisses across her collarbones. 

“You were so good. Thank you for letting me do that, you were _perfect_ , so perfect. _Mine_.” 

That sent a shiver down her spine. The Doctor reached across, taking his face in both of her hands. Oh, it felt good to be able to touch him again. 

“Only if you’re mine too, Koschei.” 

“Always,” he said, not hesitating for even a second. The Doctor stared at him, then dragged him in for a kiss, tangling her legs around him, suddenly desperate to have him as close as she possibly could. 

“...Take that other glove off,” she mumbled against his lips. 

“Sure I can’t convince you to do it for me again? That was _very_ nice...” 

She gave him a _look_ , and the Master rolled his eyes and took the glove off himself. Much better, she decided, as both of his bare hands came to rest against her back. 

“Thank you,” she murmured. 

“My pleasure. Mm...speaking of pleasure. Conclusions?”

The Doctor hummed thoughtfully. “I think I like you touching me, no matter what the dynamic is. I like the _you_. Not the power. Although. I do like the power too. Can I tie _you_ up next time?”

She felt the Master grin, even where he’d buried his face into her neck. “Yes _please_ , love. Been hoping you’d say that for _centuries_. And...” He trailed off for a moment, his voice softening. “I’m...glad you like me. Really.” 

“Yeah,” the Doctor murmured, taking a deep breath. “I trust you, Koschei. That’s what it is.” And that was true, she knew it was. No more mental fussing about it, _she trusted him_. 

The Master’s arms tightened around her, and she felt warm lips press against her shoulder. She drew him closer in return, finding a soft smile drifting across her face. 

It was nice to be touched again. It was even nicer, the Doctor decided, to be able to trust again. 

**Author's Note:**

> wow, this one got long! hope you enjoyed, comments and kudos are appreciated as always <3


End file.
